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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852802">saudade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dorks of the universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Cheating, Communication, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Lack of Communication, Late 70s, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Smut, john cheats on veronica with roger, the john/veronica tag is only bc they're married</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>saudade (n.); a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost</p><p>–</p><p>Roger was in love.</p><p>Roger was in love and he couldn’t do a thing about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Deacon/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dorks of the universe [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is going to be a long one. I'm not sure how many chapters, but it's a sequel to "serendipity", the previous work in this series, so if you want to read that first, that would be smart.</p><p>enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>1976</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rhythmic creaking of Roger’s bed echoed throughout the room along with the noises of pleasure accompanying it. Roger had <em>him</em> pinned against the bed, and was screwing <em>him </em>with vigor, not letting up. <em>His </em>wanton cries and Roger’s own desperate moans only made him want to pound into <em>him </em>harder, faster, <em>deeper.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>He</em> happened to be Roger’s bandmate.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bassist.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>John.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They wanted to stop their affair twenty-one months ago, when Veronica announced her pregnancy to John. He was quick to marry her without a second thought, and Roger didn’t want to continue sleeping with a married man, so they ended… whatever they were doing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was simply quick, meaningless shags. They’d be okay without the sex, they were just mates, after all.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At least on the surface.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Soon after their agreement, Queen went to Ridge Farm to write <em>A Night at the Opera.</em> John and Roger were given opportunities to be alone, and if Roger had any less self-control, Brian and Freddie would have caught on to their “relationship”, if you could even call it that. They didn’t sleep together, though. John had just gotten married, and Roger didn’t want to do that to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, however, <em>Bohemian Rhapsody</em> hit number one, and they no longer gave any fucks.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That night, after the band got out of the broken lift, Roger and John had the best sex of their lives. Between the adrenaline and serotonin that was pumping through their minds, the sex was just a cherry on top to how they felt.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robert Deacon was born not long after they had resumed their affair. Roger could admit that he felt <em>awful.</em> He was a home-wrecker to a beautiful family, taking an amazing father away from his son.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How hadn’t Veronica caught on? John was sleeping over at Roger’s house every other night, it seemed, and Veronica knew this.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was she dumb, or just clueless?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger felt every time he and John snuck off together, it took love away from the little boy that needed the amazing father that Roger knew John was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right now, though, Roger’s mind was on a different subject.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, <em>fuck,</em> yeah, Deaks, take it, baby.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>can’t,”</em> John whined. “It’s too <em>much,</em> I’m so full.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were on their second round of the night, and Roger insisted that they go again. John’s ass was raw from their first round, and he was definitely overstimulated by this point, but he didn’t care.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John thrived off of the sensitivity, practically begging Roger to keep going until he hit his limit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was on his back, hands loosely pinned on the mattress with one leg in the crook of Roger’s elbow and the other resting on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Roger ever finds out how John is so flexible, his life would be complete.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger stopped in his tracks, though, at John’s words. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, <em>yes.</em> Keep going or I’ll die, oh my god,” John answered, his words slurring and his eyes unfocused. He wasn’t usually talkative during sex, and he wasn’t throughout the first round that night, but his overstimulated prostate clouded his usual judgement.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger did keep going though, and it wasn’t long before his second orgasm of the night was creeping up on him. He relentlessly pounded into John, hitting his prostate with every thrust, based on John’s broken cries each time Roger pushed in.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m almost there,” Roger moaned into John’s shoulder, placing a hand on his stomach to keep his own balance as he accelerated his movements.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s hand was wrapped around his own leaking dick, which was also still sensitive from their last round. How did Roger have such unbelievable stamina?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, <em>John, </em>I’m coming,” Roger breathed, and immediately released inside of him, hips stuttering as he came.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John made a noise that sounded like a cry, but was really a pleasured moan, drowning out Roger’s low grunts as he milked out his orgasm by thrusting slowly into John, who grabbed his own dick and stroked himself quickly to his second completion.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger breathed heavily as he watched John’s flushed face. He loved watching him as he came, seeing the pleasure stretch across his features gave Roger a strong sense of satisfaction.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dropped from where he was above John, letting his arms rest. He was still partially inside John, but didn’t have the willpower to pull out yet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re done for today,” John noted weakly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“You’re</em> done for today,” Roger teased, kissing the crease between John’s neck and shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John turned to look at him, gray eyes large with concern, but mostly disbelief. “You’re joking. No way you are still up for another round.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger considered that for a minute. <em>Was he joking?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anyway,” John continued, dismissively shaking his head, wincing as he moved. “Please, pull out.” Roger could tell by John’s pained expression that it would be starting to hurt by now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, shit, sorry, Deaks,” Roger apologized, easing out of him slowly. “We might need to get a safe word.” It was meant to be a joke, but John didn’t take it as one.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held back a whine deep in his throat as he felt the pressure leave his insides. “I actually wouldn’t mind that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Dear lord, he won’t be able to shit for a year,</em> John thought to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Roger asked, furrowing his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you’ve mentioned wanting to try, um,” John stopped his words, trying to gather them before any mistakes slipped out. “Bondage.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger chuckled wildly to himself. “Who <em>wouldn’t </em>with you?” he murmured, kissing him when he spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John just rolled his eyes, not kissing back, but not pulling away from Roger’s advances either. “You are taking the piss, and it’s not amusing.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, way. I’d love to tie you up,” Roger noted with a wiggle of his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you think if we did that, we <em>would</em> need a safe word?” John pointed out, rolling halfway on top of Roger and pulling a leg up over the blond.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fair point,” Roger shrugged, reaching up to play with John’s long hair. “What will it be, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about,” John started, then he smirked. <em>“B-Side?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut the <em>fuck </em>up John,” Roger responded, jabbing John’s side, which earned a grunt from the brunet. Roger <em>knew </em>that <em>I’m In Love With My Car </em>getting on the single record with <em>Bohemian Rhapsody</em> was controversial among the four of them, and wouldn’t be lived down so easily. He fought for that song, and especially where it was on the record.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” John submitted, kissing Roger’s neck gently. <em>“Clogs,</em> then. Thinking of Brian will get both of us out of the mood, <em>so</em> fast,” John chuckled to himself, not waiting to laugh at his own joke.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now <em>you’re</em> the one who’s joking!” Roger exclaimed, not able to stop the grin that was stretching across his face nonetheless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John ceased his laughter as fast as it has started. “Alright, alright, then how about, the color system?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, so, <em>shy, </em>little John Deacon, the sweet bass player, knows about the color system? Minx! Wait until I tell Freddie,” Roger teased, flipping them over slowly to pin John down and kiss him, his tongue sweeping delicately over the other man’s lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John kissed back, placing a calloused hand on Roger’s chest, before pulling away to avoid Roger distracting him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So how’s about it?” he asked, murmuring against Roger’s lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve got me sold, baby,” Roger answered, smiling widely before kissing John again. Then he felt a heat pool in his stomach. <em>He was hard. Again. This was starting to get embarrassing.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the one that would probably buy fuzzy handcuffs.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not true, and you know it. You’d lock me up and have your way with me if I’d let you,” Roger argued playfully.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One day…” John mused to himself, glancing at Roger up and own predatorily.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut your mouth!” Roger snapped, his face flushing a bright pink.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had never switched in bed, and they didn’t talk about it much. Roger had always been with girls, and had a masculinity complex, so it would be insensitive for John to ask. He already knew the answer, anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” John apologized, reaching up to kiss him softly. “At least you <em>ass </em>isn’t <em>raw,” </em>John noted, but he wasn’t <em>really </em>bitter about it. He loved that Roger claimed him with everything he had.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah? How about we try out that pretty mouth of yours next?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was about to question <em>how </em>in the world Roger was still up for sex, until he looked between them. “You’re <em>still</em> hard?” John asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just can’t help it, Deaks,” Roger shrugged, stroking a hand down John’s side. “How about this, I fuck your face, and you do nothing except be my <em>good boy.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s nose turned up at the phrase. “Fine, don’t call me that again, though.” With that, Roger helped him get in a comfortable position, and John grabbed his arm. “I mean it, Roger.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get it, <em>baby, </em>never again,” Roger teased, earning an eye roll from John.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger <em>did </em>end up fucking John’s face, holding his long hair as he eased down his throat. John could take it up to a certain point, but handing the control over to Roger left him gagging a couple times.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When John gagged around Roger’s cock, it made Roger want to thrust even faster into John’s mouth, but he knew that probably wouldn’t score him many points, so he pulled John’s face up to his to kiss him gently when it happened, mumbling apologies and stroking his face gingerly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger ended up coming for the third time that night, this time down John’s throat and on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Every part of John felt exposed and wide open, but he still felt safe with Roger, so he hardly noticed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger was panting deeply after his orgasm, with his head tilted back and eyes closed, attempting to compose himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John said nothing as Roger came down, only pulling himself out from under the blond, giving him space as he wiped some excess come off his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger turned to look at John with glassy blue eyes, obviously fucked out. “Dear god, Deaks, you’ll be the death of me.” It was quiet for a moment as Roger stood up. “I’m getting you some water.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.” John was glad to have some water, his throat felt tight and he knew that sex dehydrated people, and John was not an exception. With the hours of fucking that he and Roger have done that night, he sweat out <em>all </em>of his body’s water supply, he felt like.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that he didn’t like it, of course.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s inner monologue about hydration was interrupted as Roger returned with a chilled glass of tap water with no ice and a damp rag. “Here,” Roger offered John the glass, letting him slowly sip on it. Roger took the rag and began cleaning John off from the mess he made. “Did any get in your eyes?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. Nice aiming,” John answered, teasing Roger weakly. He noticed that Roger pulled on some sweatpants, covering his own nakedness while John was still nude.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger wiped John clean of his come on his face and stomach, letting him take another long sip of water. “Are you feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John considered that, and set his glass on Roger’s beside table. “Sore. Really, really sore. But I like it,” he answered, his voice clearly hoarse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, we should have stopped,” Roger spoke, his tone light despite the heavy statement.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m <em>okay.</em> Come is in my ass, and it hurts to sit, but I am okay, better than okay, even,” John said simply, pulling Roger in for a chaste kiss. Roger ignored the way that his heart (and dick) felt when John made the last statement.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger hesitated before speaking again, wringing his hands and feeling all of his callouses from the years of drumming. “You know, I was <em>thinking.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, no!” John teased, a gap-toothed cheeky grin making its way onto his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off. I just, do you ever want to, you know, <em>provide?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not following, Roger,” John noted cluelessly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked down at his hands, which were now tracing the lines of the fabric on his joggers. “Never mind, actually. Do you need some clothes? You must be cold.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger stood from where he was sitting on the bed, and received some pants and a T-shirt for John and tossing them at him. At this point, if John came home in an unfamiliar outfit, Veronica wouldn’t bat an eye. The four of them, Freddie, Brian, John and Roger all shared clothes, and barely had anything for themselves anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, um, thanks,” John stuttered, pulling on the pants and shirt when he caught them. “What did you mean, ‘provide’?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger stilled his movements. “Well, I’ve always been the one <em>fucking, </em>and maybe you might be interested in that. I’ve never had anything up my ass, though, much less a dick, so I don’t know—” he stopped his ramblings before he could say anything that would embarrass himself further.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John blinked at him a few times, his expression black, before speaking. “Roger, I’m fine with the way things are,” he insisted simply.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A feeling inside Roger twisted in a good way. <em>Relief.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“However, I won’t be… <em>opposed</em> if <em>you </em>want to switch.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked up at that. “Alright.” He liked that he had the control over this situation, that John wasn’t forcing him to do anything before he was ready.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, that man was just too good for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I should get home, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh, yeah, </em>Roger thought solemnly. He didn’t show it, though.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Robert is one year old tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Oh, yeah.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The lad!” Roger exclaimed, his faux-happiness completely foolproof. “Tell the little man happy birthday for me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell him yourself. Veronica insisted on inviting adults to a one year old’s birthday party, and that includes the band,” John rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Queen to come to his home, but… it was a one year old’s birthday party.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Roger carefully explained. He could hardly handle talking to Veronica anymore, the guilt just eats him up. He knows that Veronica doesn’t know that Roger just railed her husband’s ass into his own mattress for multiple nights in a row. He feels awful.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please?” John begs, his gray, sparkling eyes growing wide and pleading. Roger’s heartbeat quickens.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Deaky.</em> I can’t just walk into your home and have tea with your wife at your son’s birthday party.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can,” John says, Roger’s eyebrows raising at the statement. “You can, because Brian will be there, and Fred will be there, and I need you to be there. I can’t have Veronica’s guests outshine my own.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger grinned. “No one can outshine Freddie.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“True, but no one can outshine you either.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger tried to say no. He needed to say no. He <em>wanted</em> to say no.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, I’ll be there. Should I bring Robert a gift?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s (adorable) gap-toothed grin widened on his face. “No, god. He is spoiled enough as it is. Bring the adults a gift, though. Champagne. Or, wine! The sweet kind.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger matched his smile with one of his own, and stood up to be at eye level with John. “Alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger ended up walking John to his car, barefoot and shirtless and all, despite John’s blushing and his quiet protests.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger really just didn’t want him to go.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he watched John drive off, to his family, he wished he would have stayed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished he would have gone to bed at Roger’s home, without having to rush off in the morning to eat breakfast with Veronica and his son.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished that John would have breakfast with him, and cook him eggs or bacon or toast or anything he wanted. Roger has always been hopeless in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished that he could have a domestic morning with John, and listen to his horrid disco records and fight about who used the last of the sugar for their tea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished that on a Sunday, when they had nothing else to do, he could just stay home with John and watch him do a crossword puzzle as Roger acted like he was reading, but really he constantly snuck glances over the book at John’s concentrated face that he makes when he is focusing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wanted to have that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And John had it with someone else.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, John comes over, and even if they don’t want to have sex, Roger and John both know it’s the only thing keeping their affair into growing into what it really was:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Love.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were in love.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Roger</em> was in love.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger was in love and he couldn’t do a thing about it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them ever could.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John walked into his townhouse just before ten o’ clock that night. He had straightened out his clothes and fixed his hair, and managed to make himself not looked fucked out and smell of sweat and sex.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He carefully unlocked the front door and made his way to the common room, where Veronica was already sat. He snuck up behind her and kissed her head gingerly, which made her jump almost three feet in the air, it seemed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, John!” she started, and turned around to face him. “You scared the living hell out of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John smiled softly. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Robert missed you today.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A feeling of dread crept up in John’s stomach. “I’m sorry, Ronnie, it’s just—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I understand. The band. I’m not angry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We are actually something, Veronica. It wasn’t the life I imagined for us, but it’s a once in the lifetime opportunity.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not angry,” she repeated. “Just, don’t forget your son.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll never forget him,” John said easily, as if it were obvious.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which it was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And tell Roger to get better taste in clothes,” she noted, kissing him on the mouth softly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John tensed. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This,” Veronica said, pulling on the shirt John had on. “Is Roger’s, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, yeah,” <em>I’m Roger’s too,</em> John thought subconsciously, before he could stop himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica grinned. “Maybe we should take it off.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A strong sense of guilt made its way into John’s gut. There was no way he could have sex tonight.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m actually really tired,” John said carefully, cupping Veronica’s face gently and giving her a gentle kiss. “We started to record three songs today, Freddie just wouldn’t give us a break.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hint of emotion that John couldn’t decipher flashed momentarily over Veronica’s eyes. “I get it. Now that I think about it, Robert wore me out today.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John hummed agreeably. “Where is he, now?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica grinned. “Just put him down. I’m sure he’d love knowing that you tucked him in.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a nod and a quick kiss on Veronica’s cheek, John made his way to Robert’s bedroom, which not long ago was an infant’s nursery. The kid was laying down and breathing evenly as John stood over his crib. He was silent as he pulled Robert’s blanket up to cover his small body, and bent over carefully to kiss his head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sight of him made John’s heart swell with pride and love. He would do anything for Robert.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you, buddy,” John murmured to the small, sleeping child, before making his way out of the room. He kept the door open, of course.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stalked into his own bedroom, and as he walked, he thought about how nice it would be to have Roger more present in Robert’s life. He’s always been so good with him, and John loved that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Oh, shit.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>No, no, no,</em> Veronica was Robert’s mother, and his wife. He loved her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He saw the woman in question in their bed, already laying down. She looked content and comfortable.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t ruin her life. He couldn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was exhausted and wasted no time getting under the comforter next to her. “Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She turned to him, with his back facing her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What she saw made her blood run cold.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goodnight, John. I love you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was like a plane flying headfirst into the Titanic, which was already vertically sinking into the icy Atlantic. She just couldn’t look away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s hair had fallen out of place revealing multiple bruising hickeys marinating on his neck and shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Those of which, <em>she had not made.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica fell asleep that night holding back her pained sobs with everything she had.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter two! freddie is in this chapter, so it's about to be good.</p><p>thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy it! chapter three will be up asap. i want to make sure this fic is completed for you all as fast as it can be.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That next morning, John woke up in an empty, cold bed. He felt <em>off</em> and vulnerable. He soon realized what woke him up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two clammy, small hands were tapping him with vigor. “Da? Da? Da?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John immediately sat up. “Robbie? Hey, birthday boy,” he said shakily, managing to smile and pull Robert up into his lap. “Hey, where’s Mummy?” It was then, when John noticed how early it was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, John didn’t genuinely expect a real response from Robert, but he answered anyway. Well, it sounded more like gibberish, but John took it and ran with it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John looked at his son incredulously. “Yeah?” he questioned as he got out of bed, putting Robert on the ground. He pulled his long, wavy hair from his neck, and smoothed it out with his fingers. “Hold on, pumpkin.” John needed to piss more than anything. He hadn’t gone since before his escapades with Roger, and his whole groin area was aching.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He quickly pissed and went back to Robert, who made himself busy with an old pair of maracas that he was probably gotten from Freddie just for being cute, and picked him up to head for the kitchen, where Veronica usually was in the morning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he walked in, he didn’t expect Veronica to be sobbing over the counter, with her arms shaking as she tried to keep herself from collapsing against the marble.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yet, that was where she happened to be.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John immediately set down Robert in his highchair and went to her side, wrapping his arms around her narrow shoulders. “Ronnie! Hey, Ron,” he tried gently. “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t touch me!” she threw his arms off her, almost shouting as she backed away. Robert whimpered at her outburst.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Veronica,” John tried again, his quiet voice even more meek than usual.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! No,” she sobbed right back, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s wrong, Ronnie?” John asked, desperation evident in his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A humorless chuckle emitted itself from her throat. “What’s wrong! Christ, John, how long has it been going on?” she asked, her voice cracking.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s breath hitched. “How long has what been going on?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your affair!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Shit.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John said nothing, and his eyes glazed over. Instinctively, he put his hand up to his neck, as if to touch the marks that Roger made on him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica’s whole demeanor dropped into nothing. “That’s what I thought. Who is she?” Her voice was quiet, if not completely emotionless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When John didn’t answer, she asked again, more angrily this time. “Who <em>is </em>she? Is she some groupie? Barely out of school? <em>In</em> school? Blonde and beautiful?” Robert started to weep softly, and Veronica headed towards him to pick him up gently, despite how she was talking to John.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John thought about this. Roger was no <em>she.</em> Roger <em>was </em>blond and beautiful, but no girl could claim John’s <em>entire</em> body and soul like Roger managed to do.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John finally decided on, <em>“She</em> doesn’t exist.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was silent for a moment as Robert calmed down. When Veronica finally spoke, her voice was <em>so</em> even and calm, which made John almost shake from his uneasiness. “Oh, John Richard Deacon, don’t <em>give me that,</em> when you know I saw those hickeys,” she bit at him, the venom unmistakable, stalking closer as she talked. “I didn’t <em>do</em> that. Those were on the back of your neck and I never—oh god, and there were <em>multiple types</em> of bruises.” The breath that was being exhaled was so startling, that John almost stopped breathing. “Some were new, and some were almost gone, this has been happening for <em>weeks </em>right under my nose!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John looked down, the shame overcoming him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or maybe even longer!” Veronica laughed dryly. “How <em>long, </em>John? If you won’t tell me <em>who, </em>tell me how long,” she demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John couldn’t even tell if it was really himself talking, but someone answered out of his mouth. “Since our first tour of the U.K.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She let out a choked gasp, her hand racing to cover her mouth, like she was going to be sick. “That’s… that was before <em>him,” </em>she looked at their son, a pained, <em>pained</em> expression in her dark eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Veronica—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up, John! You’re a piece of shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s heart was beating faster, and faster. “No, you misunderstand.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>misunderstand?”</em> Veronica turned from him and inhaled, before taking a deep, calculated breath. Her next words were so quiet, that John wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t listening. “I’m pregnant, John.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It seemed that the world around him seemed to start spinning. “You’re—what?” he asked rather pathetically.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m pregnant with your baby. Again.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my <em>god.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica started to breathe in, and breathe out, so methodically that it unnerved John to the core. “I found out early today. Around one in the morning. I was going to let this blow over until after Robert’s party,” she paused, looking at their son tenderly. “I needed to tell you. You need to understand what you have done,” she glanced back up to John. “Now tell me, <em>who is she?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even if John wanted to answer, he couldn’t will himself to do so, and Veronica full on <em>snarled.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m <em>leaving.</em> I’ll be back with Robert in a few hours, he needs a birthday breakfast before his party,” Veronica suddenly declared, striding towards the corridor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ronnie,” John persisted, following her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t! Do <em>not,</em> do not <em>follow</em> me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait!” John’s breathing was getting shallower and more rapid. <em>Oh, god, was he going to faint?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Veronica snapped, making Robert start to cry.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s… it’s not,” John took a shallow, shaking breath. “It’s not a <em>woman.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A moment of terror flashed in Veronica’s eyes and she had an outburst of a pained cry, far before John could even <em>think </em>to elaborate. “John!” Veronica practically growled, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Not. Today.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She walked out, with an emotional Robert in her arms as she left.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, John was alone, and he had a one year old’s party to prepare for all on his own.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">***</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John ended up doing everything that Veronica was going to do that day. She phoned once and let him know that she and Robert would be at her sister’s until before the guests arrive, and that John would be getting everything for Robert’s party.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He supposed it was fitting punishment, decorating for a baby’s birthday party alone while said baby was currently taken away from him sure bruised his pride.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica made the cake the day before, and it was still in the fridge, but John was still <em>hanging streamers</em> on his own, and he felt so pitiful that, for once in his life, he needed company.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t long before he was making a phone call, leaning pathetically against the wall every now and again as he let the telephone ring into his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ring.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t want to hurt Veronica like this.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ring.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t want to stop seeing Roger, either. Oh god, John was in love, and it wasn’t with his wife. He had to tell him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ring.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On the third ring, John heard someone pick up. <em>“Hello?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh—hello, Paul, is Freddie around?” John asked firmly He had never liked Paul Prenter, he had always intimidated John in a way that he hadn’t apparently intimidated Brian or Roger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“John. Yes, but make it quick. He has other commitments, you know.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John said nothing as he heard the line transferred to another phone, probably across Freddie’s large, immaculate house. The other three of them had gotten enough money from <em>ANATO </em>to be well-off enough to live on their own, and even <em>A Day at the Races, </em>which was just released, since they had gotten popular. However, Brian and especially Freddie were <em>really </em>wealthy enough to comfortably afford a <em>mansion. </em>Surprisingly, Roger was the only one who didn’t receive the royalties of a single, but he was still financially stable enough for a <em>major </em>upgrade from their previous lifestyle.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“John! You know, if you contact me one more time about the tour or the new album, I’m going to absolutely scream! Rome wasn’t built in a day!”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John blinked for a moment. “Oh, um, John <em>Deacon,</em> Freddie.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He heard the man gasp from the other end of the line. <em>“Oh, dear! Many apologies, my darling boy.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re alright. I was actually wondering if you were free right now, but Paul mentioned other commitments, so—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie cut him off before he could continue. <em>“No! No, nothing important. </em>You<em> are important, though. What do you need?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John took a steady, deep breath before explaining. “Well, Veronica and I had a… disagreement. It was all my fault, really, and so now I’m decorating for a toddler’s birthday party all on my lonesome. It’s quite pathetic,” John said, chuckling lightly at his situation, despite the fact that he didn’t think it was funny in the slightest.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Oh! Deaky,”</em> Freddie laughed. <em>“You are, well, you’re too cute. That does sound quite pathetic though, darling. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you, thank you so much, Fred,” John said, relieved that he wouldn’t be blowing up neon balloons on his own. Before he hung up, he said one last thing. “If it’s not too much trouble, could it just be you who shows up?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t mean tobe demanding, but John really did not want Paul in his home.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Of course, Deaky, it’ll just be me,”</em> he told him, before adding cheekily, <em>“your favorite member of Queen!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Queen?</em> What is this <em>Queen?”</em> John teased him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie scoffed, before laughing. <em>“Git. I’ll be there shortly, darling!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John made himself feel useful while he was waiting for Freddie. He tried to blow up some balloons (Robert always had liked those), but he was too blue to really get anything done. Besides, Robert wouldn’t remember any of this, he was just a baby.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Freddie walked through the door, which John had kept unlocked, he announced his arrival with a surprised hum. “Oh, darling. For someone whose outfits are always <em>ridiculously</em> perfect, you can’t decorate for shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John turned to meet his gaze. “Oh, whatever, Fred. It’s a one year old’s party, it’s not the biggest deal.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure what to <em>do </em>at a baby’s party… However! It’s our little <em>Robert’s </em>party! Uncle Freddie can’t let him down,” Freddie pointed out, prodding at the gifts that have already been sent in for him. “Robbie better like <em>my</em> gift the best.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll see, Freddie. He <em>is </em>only one.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know! I hate that Roger is his favorite uncle, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John paused. “You think Roger is his favorite?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not a single member of Queen had a brother, so they <em>were </em>each other’s brothers. They were kin, through and through, no matter what. John’s father died when John was very young, so Freddie became a father figure for him as well, it seemed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Likewise, Roger became his lover.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie scoffed. “Of course he is. Robbie adores that blond tramp.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John grinned at Freddie’s semantics, and hung another streamer. “Do you think this is what Veronica had in mind?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Honestly, Deaky, Veronica would have transformed your home into a complete <em>playhouse </em>for Robert,” Freddie notes pointedly, grabbing some decorations to help him out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John smiles sadly. “She’s always done the most for him, hasn’t she?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but, where is the woman? And the boy?” Freddie asked, looking genuinely concerned.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John sighed and rubbed his calloused fingers through his hair. “At her sister’s. We got into a disagreement, like I said on the phone.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie took John’s hand in his own, stopping its movements. “Don’t mess up your waves. They’re better than Brian’s!” John rolled his eyes, and Freddie continued. “But… A <em>disagreement!</em> The golden couple? Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure it’ll pass.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not this time, Fred,” John shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, sure it will! You two can get through <em>anything.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose so.” John wasn’t convinced, and Freddie could see that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered carefully.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John thought about it. Freddie, of all people, would be the most helpful in this situation. The band knew that Freddie liked men, and that was a factor that did lead to his breakup with Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even still, Freddie didn’t have any children with her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head again. “I’m not sure if that would be wise.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie scoffed playfully. “It’s not like I don’t already <em>know,</em> darling!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” <em>No, no, no. They’ll kick him out of the band for sure.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie continued, not picking up John’s sudden wave of anxiety, and continued without wavering. “Deaky, dear, someone <em>tore you up </em>in bed last night,” Freddie said simply. “And the night before. And the night before,” he continued, giggling. “Those hickeys don’t hide very well on that porcelain skin of yours. And neither does that blush!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, John was more than just <em>blushing. </em>He wouldn’t be surprised if his skin was flushed from head to toe from Freddie’s accusations.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How could he even <em>tell?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please don’t hate me, Freddie,” John pleaded, almost silently.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Hate</em> you? Dear, I am the <em>queen</em> of infidelity. I have had more unfaithful gatherings than you can fathom. It truly is shameful once you’re caught, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not the same,” John bit back quietly,</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure it is. You and Ronnie will figure it out, though, you must. For Robert.” Freddie said it as if it were <em>easy.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not as simple as that. It’s not just an affair.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Freddie breathed. “You have feelings for… <em>the mistress.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John didn’t say anything, and used this time to blow up a balloon, and Fred just kept asking questions.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have feelings for the forbidden woman!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Oh, Deaky! This is… not <em>good,</em> necessarily… but, I know you’ve never been <em>in love</em> with Veronica, so—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love Veronica!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You were never <em>in love </em>with her, though. You never planned to get married, or have a baby, or be a <em>family,”</em> Freddie explained, and John <em>hated </em>that he was right.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t <em>regret </em>Robert,” John sputtered, probably more for his own validation rather than disputing Freddie’s point.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of <em>course</em> not! But, I want you to be happy, John. <em>Romantically.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What was Freddie <em>doing? </em>He always gave the best advice, so why was he endorsing this? Why did he have to be <em>right? </em>Why did John have to be so happy when he was with Roger? Maybe if Freddie knew, he wouldn’t want John to be happy. Being happy means being selfish, right?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, if only Freddie knew that <em>it was with Roger.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was with Roger.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The words came out of John’s mouth before he could stop them. He wished he could catch them and shove them away, so it could go back to being the secret only the two of them knew.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t a secret anymore, though, John just sealed the fate of that fact. Judging by the look that Freddie had on his face, that was the last thing that he expected John to say.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The usually articulate Freddie Mercury did his very best to muster out a stupendous:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh—what?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John buried his head in his hands, letting his hair fall to hide behind it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I had sex with Roger. Every time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">God, shut up, he told himself, but the cat was out of the bag. It was too late.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slumped down onto the large couch that he and Veronica owned, and labored his breathing to deliberately keep himself from crying.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was it. Freddie was going to leave. He was going to tell Brian and Roger. Roger is so much harder to replace, so that means that John would be kicked out of the band. He was the last one to join, so it makes sense, he never belonged anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie was going to leave.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, John was proved utterly wrong when he sat beside him on the sofa and held him close. John immediately relaxed into the touch and let his hands fall into his lap.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie chuckled dryly. “I’m going to kill him.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A spark of panic spread through John’s chest as he burst from Freddie’s hold. “No! No, Fred, it wasn’t like he <em>forced </em>me to do anything, I swear.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then what happened? Because I don’t see why you made the choice to ruin your perfect marriage for a purely sexual affair, John.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You just said, <em>I have feelings for him!</em> I do! I <em>know</em> Roger doesn’t do the whole ‘commitment’ thing. It probably <em>is</em> purely sexual on his side, but… I think I’m in love with him, Freddie.” The realization shocked even himself as he let the declaration pass his lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie blinked at him, not knowing what exactly to say. “With Roger? <em>Our </em>Roger?” Freddie asked in disbelief, but he didn’t wait to get an answer, because he already knew what it would be. Instead, he decided to ask, in a quiet, gentle voice that made John feel safe and at home, “Does he know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! No, absolutely <em>not.</em> God, <em>no.</em> He doesn’t feel the same way. He is just… in it for the sex. You know he has never liked strings,” John reiterated despairingly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am going to kill him for taking advantage of you, then,” Freddie decided.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He didn’t, Freddie!” John insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You <em>love</em> him, he, according to you, doesn’t love you back, you’re <em>married, </em>yet you still have sex with him,” Freddie said as if he were explaining the Pythagorean theorem to a flock of penguins. “You’re sacrificing <em>everything, </em>including the <em>band,</em> while he’s just getting off. That doesn’t sound like a fair deal.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, Freddie, but listen,” John bargained. “You are the <em>only one</em> that knows what we’re doing. You can’t just gossip about this to anyone,” he said, before gasping. “Oh, and if Brian found out, he’d kick me out of the band for sure. Roger will never speak to me again! Not even them, you <em>can’t </em>tell them, Freddie!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie held back a laugh. He knew Brian wouldn’t kick him out. Brian wouldn’t ever do that to John.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger, if John was telling the truth, however… </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Freddie just nodded. “Veronica doesn’t know who it is, does she?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! No, but I told her it wasn’t a woman. You can’t tell her, either. I have to do that,”John decided out loud, before burying his face in his hands. “Dear god, I’m a <em>freak.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t just go about spreading around your business, darling! Don’t speak so low of me,” Freddie insisted. “Oh, and for the record, I don’t think you’re a freak.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John gave him a sweet smile in response, earning a mirrored one from Freddie before he asked slowly:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, has Roger not told anyone either?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head. “Of course not. I’m the only man he’s gotten with. He’s technically straight. He has a reputation.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie outright laughed at that, earning a confused glance from John. “Um, Deaky, darling, I’m not sure if he is.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He likes women,” John answered simply.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, he does, but he apparently likes a man, too, or he wouldn’t be having sex with one. You <em>can </em>like both. You know I do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but I’m the <em>only</em> man. He wouldn’t get with other men. He told me so.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John remembers a conversation that he and Roger had when they resumed their affair.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>They were laying side by side on the bed, completely naked. It had been silent for minutes now, and Roger finally broke the silence with his question.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“You’ve been with other men, right?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“One. My first year of college. We never went all the way, though,” John answered with a blush.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Good.” John didn’t understand Roger’s response, and didn’t feel like questioning it. He was more curious if Roger had been with another man, since he had asked John.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“What about you?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Deaks, you’re the only one I’ve been with, and the only bloke I wanna have for the rest of my life,” Roger stated, rolling his blue eyes.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>His eyes have always been so pretty.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe you should talk to the bastard,” Freddie said, interrupting John’s memory.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I plan to. He was invited today by Veronica.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, that’ll be awkward when she finds out!” Freddie chides, attempting to lighten the mood.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hell is going to break loose,” John agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished he was kidding.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>our boys finally talk about it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie had gone home after he helped John to ‘get the appropriate outfit’, although John didn’t understand why he felt the need to dress up for a baby’s birthday party that would have no more than twenty people in attendance, that Freddie wouldn’t even know.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tried desperately to talk to Veronica when she came back home, but she insisted that her sister and mother would be there any moment, and Robert needed to be changed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John wrung his calloused hands together, biting his lower lip every time Veronica pushed him away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their home began to fill up with people that John couldn’t recognize. Even his own sister showed up for a short time, but he was sure she was there more for Veronica than him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">People from around the neighborhood made an appearance, all bringing their own children and gifts. Veronica insisted that it was a good idea, building connections around the home for both her and Robert.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie showed up again, now decked out in an over-the-top (yet tasteful) outfit. Thank god, it was somewhat family friendly—a maroon, velvet jacket covering his ruffled silk shirt, paired with <em>tight</em> black pants and platform boots. It wasn’t ideal, but at least no one could see the shape of his penis, which has been known to happen to almost all four of them before.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No matter how religious or conservative anyone was, no one could resist the charm of Freddie Mercury, so he made great company for the guests on John’s behalf.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie immediately went for Robert, who was being smothered by the old ladies. He tried to get his turn with him, but Veronica swooped in and saved the boy before anyone else could pass him around like a hot potato, much to Fred’s dismay.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were numerous amounts of small children hazing the kitchen and colonizing the other rooms in the house, which made John uncomfortable, but at least he was good with them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In general, at least.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he was making the rounds, he noticed a small, black-haired girl, probably no older than two, making a fort on the ground with John’s couch cushions.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rushed over to her as soon as he saw, before Veronica would find out and get even more angry today. “Hey, hey, sweetheart,” John said to her gently, crouching down to get on eye level with her. “This isn’t a toy, its home is right here,” John put the cushion back onto the sofa. “Where are some toys that you can <em>play</em> with?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The girl’s brown doe-eyes lit up. “I go get them!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John sighed in defeat, realizing he would have to put the sofa back together on his own, and stood up as he watched the small child run somewhere else in the house, hopefully not to destroy any other furniture or valuable items.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gingerly picked up the weaved cushion from the carpet, running his long fingers over the design of the fabric. He and Veronica bought this sofa when they moved in, because John wanted to spoil her with a big, Victorian house––with big, domestic furniture.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s such a fuck up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not long after John made his way back to the common room, Brian even showed up, and he was holding a suspiciously guitar-shaped gift.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where should I put this?” he asked, after politely nodding to greet John.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed in relief. “Hey, Brian, thank you for coming. You might need to save Queen’s reputation to the many middle aged women in the kitchen––Freddie is making an impression.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man grinned softly. “Anything for the Deacon family… but, I’ll be right on that. I am aware that our target audience is the local housewife of twenty years.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John usually didn’t laugh at Brian’s jokes, usually because Roger was there to make fun of Brian before anyone got a chance to, but John laughed <em>now, </em>anyway. “Gifts are over by Veronica,” John pointed at the woman, who was holding a cheerful Robert in her arms. “But, please remember to save the band, too,” he added with a grin.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian laughed at John’s comment and dropped off the gift, and Veronica let him hold Robert for a moment. There was a small tinge of tenderness in Brian’s eyes, which made John wonder if he and Chrissie were planning on having any kids.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He went around greeting the family and friends who showed up, and answered the same questions about Robert each time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Yes, he’s already walking.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>He isn’t talking yet, but he is trying.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>No, it’s not hard being in Queen and being a father at the same time.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last question always made his chest clench.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, on his third time telling the story of Robert’s first steps, he glanced over to where his baby was with Veronica.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Who was also talking to a familiar blond man that he knew all too well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He took in a sharp breath, almost choking on the air.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John didn’t even <em>notice</em> Roger arrive. It was apparently Veronica who opened the door for him, and as promised, he was holding an expensive bottle of Spottswoode wine. John had only seen him get wasted from that once, and he wouldn’t mind seeing it happen again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But <em>definitely</em> not today.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica was smiling sweetly at Roger, and John made an effort to not listen to their conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You come bearing gifts, I see?” Veronica mused, still holding Robert close on her hip.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do. Mostly for the close family, if you catch my drift,” he murmured in her ear.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do,” she giggled. “Here. Let us trade. I’ll hide the <em>luxury good,</em> and you take the baby?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perfect,” Roger smiled, his charm once again pulling through as he took Robert from Veronica’s arms and gave her the wine.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Veronica left the room with the wine, John wasted no time going to––ahem––<em>greet</em> Roger, politely ending the conversation with whatever distant family friend he had to pretend to be an extrovert with.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Rog,” John said timidly, smiling gently.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Deaky! Look who it is, Robbie,” Roger spoke, poking Robert’s stomach, that jutted out. Oh, the baby fat hasn’t left yet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robert squealed and said something in gibberish, which made the both of them laugh.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger, I need to tell you something,” John muttered, looking anywhere but at the blond man.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger did look at him, though, expectantly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—I told, no… I… Ronnie, she um, she found out,” John whispered, so hushed that he was sure he would have to repeat himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger did hear, however, given by how he almost dropped the baby he was holding.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit!” Roger cursed, tightening his grip before Robert could slip from his grasp.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shush!” John whisper-yelled. “He’s started to repeat everything. Sort of. It’s in gibberish.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John,” Roger warned, ignoring his laments about Robert. “You didn’t <em>tell </em>her, did you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head, not answering Roger’s directly, and glanced over at Freddie. “Give Robert to Freddie. He’s been wanting to hold him all day. Just, uh… Come with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John left the room quickly, almost fast enough that no one noticed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger was in shock, <em>utter</em> shock.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This <em>can’t</em> end so soon. He needed John, and he knew if it ended because they got <em>caught,</em> their friendship would end along with it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He couldn’t stand for that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He found Freddie, who was surrounded by grandmothers and aunties who were enthralled in some sort of rock n’ roll story he was telling.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Freddie,” Roger waved, getting his attention. “Someone wants to see you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A chorus of the women’s <em>aww’s</em> and <em>ooh’s</em> surrounded them as Freddie took Robert, who cooed at the dark-haired man. Freddie took this time to whisper in Roger’s ear, “Don’t fuck him up, lover boy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All Roger could do was stare back and nod, a glint of anger in his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie <em>knew.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How could John betray him like this? Let Veronica find out? Go off and tell <em>Freddie?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, John didn’t betray him. <em>He betrayed John.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger let himself love him, <em>fuck</em> him, take him <em>away.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ruined John’s life because he fell in love with him, and that’s why when he was trudging through the Deacon’s hallway, he couldn’t bear to turn the handle to the guest room and have John tell him that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t want to be rejected, but he felt that was coming.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, the handle turned for him, and John appeared on the other side.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger, I was just coming to look for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger ignored John’s pleasantries. “John, what the <em>fuck?”</em> Roger breathed, shutting the door behind himself.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John immediately defended himself, pulling his lean arms closely around his body, as if he was warming up from the cold. “I didn’t <em>tell</em> her! She found out, she saw the hickeys and… I just couldn’t lie to her.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She was being nice to me in the corridor, though,” Roger replied.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She doesn’t know it’s <em>you.</em> She just…knows it’s someone.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, my god,” Roger couldn’t tell if he said it with relief or frustration.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who isn’t a woman,” John finished with a cringe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my <em>god!”</em> Roger exclaimed again, this time definitely with frustration.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I’m going to tell her who.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, I can’t—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head. “You don’t have to be there. You have to know this is happening, though, because…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is when it’s going to happen. John was going to choose <em>her. </em>Which he couldn’t argue with… he had a <em>child </em>with her. He was officially married to her. Roger is an inconvenience. Roger will never top that. He’ll never be good enough.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He braced himself for the worst.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…because I’m going to file for a divorce.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger couldn’t have heard that correctly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A divorce?” Roger asked, creasing his eyebrows. “What? What the <em>fuck?</em> You two can work through this! I’m nothing, not<em> anything,</em> she has to know that!” Roger rambled on, almost crazed with his convictions.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the problem, Roger! You aren’t <em>nothing!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The way that that Roger was looking at John was so unreadable. John couldn’t tell if Roger would walk out, or punch him in the face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is the first time they’ve ever talked about what they were to each other, with the connection from the sex to their friendship as the subject.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was so afraid, with the way Roger was looking at him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His ocean blue eyes were still oh <em>so </em>beautiful, though, that he couldn’t look away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, we’re friends,” Roger amended carefully, the pained way which he spoke somehow hidden. Then, quieter, “A friend that you have sex with. I’m not <em>nothing, </em>obviously… but I am not <em>something </em>like <em>that.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head, beginning to pace the room. “Roger, I can’t be with her. Not when…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger waited for John to finish his thought, but John never did. “Not when <em>what?”</em> He prompted, his impatience getting the better of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John’s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest at any moment. He could hardly <em>breathe.</em> “Not when I want to be with someone else. Not when… not when I’m not in love with her. Not when I am in love with <em>you!” </em>John exclaimed, his voice still hushed despite the passionate tone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger took an impulsive step back, sputtering out his words. “That isn’t—</span>
  <span class="s1">that’s not <em>true,</em> Deaks. You love Ronnie. You have a child together!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love her,” John started simply, and he saw Roger start to look down. “I <em>do.</em> I was never <em>in love</em> with her, though. That was <em>you,</em> and I get it,” he muttered with a lifeless laugh. “I know it isn’t like that for you, but I can’t just<em> stay</em> with her, Roger, I can’t. It’s not fair to her, it’s simply mean! We can’t raise Robert and…” John trailed off, eyes suddenly unfocused, before starting again. “We can’t raise <em>him</em> how we should when we are trapped in an unhappy, <em>unfair</em> marriage.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It—there has to be another way,” Roger assumed carelessly, his tone breathy and helpless.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>get</em> it, Roger! I do, you don’t want me to love you, but I <em>do!</em> I’ve never felt anything like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger instantly grabbed John’s hand, stopping his pacing, and placed it on his own chest. “John.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John shook his head, refusing to look at him. “Roger…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Deaks, listen to me,” Roger tried, lifting his chin up so their eyes met. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice so hushed and delicate that John was sure it was all in his imagination. Roger placed his other hand on John’s, and took a deep breath. “Deaky, I’m in love with you,” he admitted, his blue eyes staring into John’s gray. The words felt so good to say, that he just had to say it again. “I’m in love with you, too!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re—what?” John couldn’t fathom what he was hearing, he squinted his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you, Deaks! I love you, oh god, John, I love you,” Roger declared over and over again. The words felt light and airy, and Roger was beaming.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was like he has been trapped for so long, and finally he let himself go free.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John, however, looked even more scared than before, almost sad. “Roger, you don’t have to say that, because I <em>can</em> do this without you loving me back,” John responded. “It’s my choice, no matter what you say to try and make it justified.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s true, John. I haven’t been with another person in months. Literally, you’re the only one I want, not just a guy. <em>Anyone.</em> Not even purely sexually, I want you. I want your smile and your words, <em>all </em>of your emotions, I <em>want</em> them. I want them to me mine, too,” Roger spoke firmly, cupping John’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were so close, and with John only wearing his adidas, they were at eye level. They were also at<em> lip level,</em> too, which made their lips magnetically charged to connect with each other.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, I want <em>you.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me too, Roger,” John finally smiled.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want yourself? And I thought I was the cocky one!” Roger teased, his serious, romantic demeanor almost slipping away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanker,” John murmured, and pressed his lips to Roger’s.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They kissed sweetly for a few seconds, but Roger could only hold off so long, and deepened the kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were so into each other, that they didn’t hear the door open.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Robert is getting hungry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They pulled apart so fast, that John almost got whiplash. In the doorway, was Veronica. She had no expression, which just made it worse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had caught them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ronnie—” John tried, but she interrupted him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want you to miss his cake,” she responded, glancing sparsely at Roger. He could see the utter betrayal and heartbreak in her eyes, and he felt like complete shit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Veronica!” Roger called, but she had already walked away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John looked at him, and wiped his mouth gently with his sleeve. “Let’s go.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s <em>go</em>, Roger.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Oh, shit.</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>things go down.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>all of your comments have been AMAZING! I've been trying to respond to all of them! thank you all so much!</p><p>I have had every chapter prewritten, but the rest of what I have is a very early draft... so it might be longer gaps between updates. BUT NOT TOO LONG, don't worry ;)</p><p>enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the party went awfully.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not in general, just for John and Roger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica had walked in on them. There was no way for John to break it to her easily, she definitely saw them kissing, and god <em>knows </em>what she heard them say.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They felt that they couldn’t even look at each other. Even with Robert being the cutest, <em>coolest</em> baby that everyone (even Brian) was cooing at, John couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the happiness around him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not when he was about to lose <em>everything.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whatever was said just moments before while they were alone was void to Roger. John had a <em>wife, </em>a family!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The guests filtered out with time, and even Freddie turned in for the night, reluctantly letting Robert go to bed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian sweetly said his goodbyes to Veronica, and mentioned something to Roger about tour rehearsal the next day that he didn’t listen to before heading home as well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All of the visitors had gone home for the night, and Roger attempted to sneak out, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He really didn’t want to turn around.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger,” Veronica said, pulling her hand back from his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Veronica, please, listen,” Roger tried to explain immediately, his heart rate picking up as he spoke. “What you saw in there? Please know that it was nothing. Please.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica instinctively turned her nose up. Not from disgust, but from frustration. “That makes it <em>worse.</em> I’d rather my failed marriage at least matter,” she sneered back at him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger didn’t know what to say, and his next works came out broken and awkward. “Where… um… where is, uh… he?” Roger asked pathetically.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told him to put Robert to bed.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right on cue, John walked into the living room, and paled when he saw the situation. Roger had never seen someone more scared in his life.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John started slowly, <em>carefully.</em> “Ronnie, please just let me explain,” he said, keeping his distance and raising a hand as if to defend himself, like she was going to charge at him and beat him to death.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite her attempt at a cool, stoic demeanor with Roger, seeing her husband in the face made hot, angry tears well up in her eyes. “I don’t <em>need </em>an explanation. I—I… am just so fucking upset!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked down at the ground, at his worn <em>ridiculous </em>pink, sparkly converse, which made him feel juvenile and out of place where he stood. It was if his feet were planted firmly at the ground, but his body wanted to double over.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How could you do this, John? You are ruining your career, your <em>family,</em> everything, for something that’s, <em>apparently,</em> nothing?” Veronica choked out between sobs, which were now coming in spades.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so sorry, Veronica,” John breathed out, his voice low, obviously ashamed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And Roger, you are a <em>selfish, selfish </em>man.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked up at her when she said that, his eyes wide, like he was being scolded by his mother.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Veronica continued. “You say it was nothing, and you don’t truly <em>care</em> about him, but you’ll still risk his entire life? His family?” she questioned. Roger was in shock at her reasoning, stumbling over his thoughts in his head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked at John, his eyes pleading, before slowly glancing back at the woman questioning him. “I care about him.” There was a beat where no one said anything, until: “I love him, Veronica. Same as you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This made her jump back, and John turned to stare at Roger, bewildered. “Rog, don’t—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>will,</em> John! I will do this, because <em>I love you.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anyone who might have seen the way that they looked at each other in that moment, when bright blue eyes met wide gray ones, because only that look of pure devotion towards one another’s souls had such intensity that it sparked what Veronica said next.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John,” Veronica said softly. “It’s okay to love him back.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was like <em>she</em> wasn’t talking. It seemed fate, the <em>universe,</em> was talking <em>through</em> her, like it was trying to make the stars align.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A moment of weakness washed over the brunet as he stepped towards Roger. “Rog… just, just… I…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger scoffed, after a moment of John not saying anything. “No, I get it, Deaks. You can say it in private, but not when it really matters,” he snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Both of you! <em>Both</em> of you are making a mess, and I won’t be around to watch it,” Veronica declared, walking towards Robert’s room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ronnie!” John called out, sleeping baby forgotten. “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She returned, duffle bag in one arm and John’s son in the other, still sleeping, even throughout the chaos. “Away. For now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!” John said, a panicked look passing in his eyes. “No, please, when did you even pack? Ronnie, stay, please don’t go,” John rambled, desperately, but Veronica said nothing, walking past him to the corridor.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John immediately followed her as Roger listened in from the living room, almost feeling like he was made of stone, not able to move. “No, please don’t take him,” John begged. <em>“Veronica!</em> Don’t take him away!” he said again, his voice lower and more forceful this time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t be here, John!” she exclaimed, turning to face him, now at the end of the corridor. “I have to go. I love you, but <em>I have to go.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you too, but please don’t take my <em>children</em> from me,” John pleaded, tears now falling from his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before she turned around, she twitched, and sighed. <em>“They</em> need to stay with me for now. I… I can’t even be <em>angry.</em> If what you say is <em>true… </em>I am not <em>angry. </em>I do have to go, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just like that, Veronica was gone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John wasted no time rushing back into the common room, where he found Roger, whose face was freshly tear-stained. When had he started crying?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger, I—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John, I’m so sorry,” Roger breathed, hugging him close.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Roger, <em>I’m </em>sorry,” John hugged him back, wrapping his arms around his waist tightly. “I love you. I’m so sorry—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love <em>you, </em>Deaky.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And—” John tried again, but Roger spoke before he could get anything else out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, you said to Veronica,” Roger interrupted, pulling back. <em>“Children.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John let out a shaky breath, decided it wouldn’t be smart to tell any lies now. “Veronica told me this morning she was pregnant.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” Roger mustered out. “Fuck! I ruined your life!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John couldn’t help letting out a laugh. “No, Roger,” John said.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Yes!</em> This woman has your babies. Your <em>babies. </em>I can’t compete!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to,” John spoke gently, his voice still shaky from emotion. “I choose <em>you.</em> I am in love with <em>you.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stared at each other again, and Roger place his hand on John’s smooth, pale cheek, and he placed his hand on top of Roger’s.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She left, John.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” John looked down as he spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have to get your… your children,” Roger said, pulling away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, please don’t leave too,” John begged, again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have to leave! I’m not <em>good </em>for you. We’re <em>mates,</em> we’re in Queen, that has to be all!” Roger said intently. “I <em>can’t</em> love you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Rog,” John said weakly. “I choose <em>you.</em> Please, please…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger looked up at him, and saw the desperation in his eyes. He would be all alone if Roger left now. Roger would do anything for him, and he couldn’t leave him…</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which is why he <em>had </em>to.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then, after all that, John was alone once again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger didn’t know where he was, but he new it wasn’t the club that he drove his car to after he had left John’s house.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just wanted <em>out, </em>he wanted a drink, and an irrelevant, pretty thing to look at.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was pretty, but he was far from irrelevant. In fact, he was the most relevant person in Roger’s life right now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, now he <em>wasn’t</em> at the club that he drove to, and he doesn’t remember how he got to his current location.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was at someone’s house, and it was <em>not</em> his own. It seemed like he couldn’t see, or hear, or feel.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He blearily remembered having one too many shots, but even drunk, he could still faintly remember what was happening around him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He barely remembered doing lines of coke, which he <em>had</em> done before. He hardly remembered the <em>girl</em> and her friends, but he <em>knew</em> that he was high as fuck.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, he barely remembered that he was probably at one of their flats.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He barely remembered the god <em>awful </em>sex with her, and how he was now helplessly laying on her floor like he was a dead body. She had gotten him cross faded, gave him one bad orgasm, and left him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">More clearly than anything, though, he remembered John.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remembered his perfectly pale, almost translucent skin, and how his perfect jawline added to how pretty he was. He remembered John’s wavy, silky hair that he loved pulling and playing with, and he remembered John’s lithe, slim body that always had Roger <em>aching </em>with want.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remembered Deaky’s quiet demeanor, and how he would always let anyone talk for hours without interrupting them, but conversely could talk your head off and make you hurt from laughing so much. He remembered how John would calm him down in such a gentle way when he got upset, and how he always helped Freddie get Roger to control himself. He remembered that John was one of the sweetest, kindest people he had ever met.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remembered his gap-toothed smile that made his doe-eyes crinkle at the edges, which always made Roger’s chest tighten in the scariest, and the best, way.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“John, please, come get me, please,”</em> Roger tried to say to no one in particular.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He remembered John's gentle, large hands that always held Roger close when he felt lonely or cold, and as Roger fell asleep, high and drunk on a stranger’s floor, he was <em>so, so </em>cold.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oops✨❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>there is a misunderstanding, and these boys need a class on communication</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this fic is a whole ass mess. i leave and then come back and gift y'all with even more angst. sorry lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John glanced up at a pacing Brian and a loud Freddie as he was tuning his bass.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had been at this rehearsal for twenty minutes, and have gotten nothing done.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Japan was going to be a nightmare if they couldn’t figure this set out, and missing their drummer certainly didn’t help.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie had tried to ask John if he knew where Roger was, but John just shrugged. He was completely destroyed over the night before, with both Veronica and Roger leaving him to his lonesome all in one night.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He deserved it, though, at least from Veronica.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He couldn’t help but feel simply heartbroken, though, at what Roger said to him before leaving him on his own to suffer.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I can’t love you.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was he really such a useless, awkward mess that he drove away the person he literally did everything for?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck it! We’re starting without him!” Freddie suddenly exclaimed, obviously annoyed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian sighed, and strapped on his Special Red over his shoulder. “Do you think he’s okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie huffed, and sat down at the piano. “I honestly couldn’t give a damn, darling!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John flinched, knowing that it really was because of him and Roger’s <em>drama</em> that made Freddie so pissed. He could tell that he wasn’t angry with John, but mostly at Roger. He felt a little bad for Brian, who was out of the loop completely.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right as Freddie started composing random riffs on the spot, Roger strode into the room, looking miserable.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John has never seen Roger as anything less than beautiful, but today might rival that. He looked sickly—<em>pale,</em> and he was flushed, like he just got finished running a marathon after eating too much pasta. His clothes were the same as what he had on yesterday, minus a layer, leaving him in a thin t-shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger! What the <em>hell </em>happened to you?” Brian asked bluntly. He was like a brother to Roger, so he probably was truly concerned, but it came out making him sound like a jackass.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dunno, Bri,” Roger slurred out, practically falling onto the drum stool. He gave John a quick look, and John could tell Roger was <em>not</em> sober.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie seemed to notice it too. “It’s 9:30 A.M., darling!” Freddie insisted, voice hushed despite no one but the four of them in the rehearsal room. “And you’re <em>drunk?”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s none of your business,” Roger mumbled out, crashing down on his tom toms with his sticks aggressively.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John looked down, feeling a twinge of second hand embarrassment. Is that where Roger fled off to after breaking his heart? A bar to get so shit-faced that he would still be drunk in the morning?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe you should go home, Roger,” Brian offered. “We can plan the sets ourselves, you need to sleep this off.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will people stop telling me what to do!” Roger yelled, throwing his sticks to the ground. “I already got a ticket, and now this?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got a <em>ticket?” </em>Brian asked, bewildered.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, whatever, too drunk to drive so I left my car somewhere and a fucking prick gave me a parking ticket. What’s he gonna want me to do? Wreck my Ferrari?” Roger questioned out loud, clearly pissed.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Freddie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he began the crescendo of <em>Flick of the Wrist, </em>quite obnoxiously on the piano. Roger winced.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Brian could be right. Maybe you need to rest, Roger,” John suggested quietly, looking up at where he was on the drum risers.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger’s demeanor softened just enough for only anyone looking to notice. “Whatever, I’ll––I’ll go home,” he huffed out. “You lot will need me!” he called out to the three of them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get out of here, darling, you’re lucky we’re not recording today,” Freddie called out passive-aggressively.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger said nothing to John as he drunkenly stormed out of the closed rehearsal, leaving him once again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took hours, but they (nay, Brian and Freddie) finally made the set list for the tour of Japan that year. It wasn’t going to be a <em>long </em>tour, they had already signed over to reel out another album by the next year, anyway, so they had to make recording a priority. Even still, Fred and Brian are not casual about the affair.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian kept insisting that they begin the sets with <em>Bohemian Rhapsody,</em> but Freddie countered that the song wouldn’t hype up the crowd right off the bat, and that he wanted to save his <em>masterpiece </em>for the middle or end of the concert where people will anticipate it and enjoy it more.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian yielded to that idea, hastily admitting that Freddie was right. Freddie then insisted that they started with <em>Flick of the Wrist, </em>but Brian was appalled at the idea, considering it wasn’t the most recognizable.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were like that for hours, bouncing back and forth between songs that should go at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end of the set.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, though, Freddie insisted that there was a universal order to their tracks that they had to discover before making, as he said, ‘rash decisions’ about performances.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This would be the time where John would banter with Roger, who would jut in an opinion or two occasionally just to cause more chaos for their entertainment, but Roger wasn’t there. It was just John, third wheeling with Brian and Freddie, who were arguing like a married couple who happened to hate each other.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In fact, Roger had gotten piss drunk enough to abandon him with these lunatics.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even still, John couldn’t help but feel worried about his well-being.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John tried to speak for himself a few times, but he wasn’t given more than a glance from Freddie or Brian, who were too caught up in their own convictions.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger probably would have stuck up for him, but <em>Roger wasn’t there.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, they ended up deciding to open with Bohemian, which frustrated John to no end. <em>That was the first idea and they wasted so much time arguing against it.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After that <em>discovery,</em> it was a domino effect to get the songs placed in the right order, where they would flow together and build off of each other to create energy for the audience.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Brian happily ripped the page he’d been writing on with the chronological list of songs from the notebook in his hand, insisting that he’d run it by the sound engineers and managers, and before he could witness Freddie complain that the sound engineers shouldn’t have a say, John was leaving.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John had never been more glad to see a rehearsal end, and wasted no time exiting the building as fast as he could, barely sparing a goodbye to either of the boys.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had a very messed up blond beauty queen to check up on.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was late that night before John got to Roger’s house, long past dark. He pulled his car up to the elegant mansion that suited Roger’s style all too well. Roger has always valued luxury and extravagance, similar to Freddie.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The very reason John purchased a more Victorian styled home for himself was for the domestic aspect of it. He thought it was a perfect place to have a family, raise children, a perfect home for his wife.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He supposed that was all over now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John carefully went in the garage, connected to the long driveway that led up to the home, and to his surprise (yet also concern), the door handle easily turned and opened the door for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger never locked the door. He <em>always </em>locked the door.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Damn, that man must’ve been hammered.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John entered steadily, and locked the garage side entrance behind him before continuing through the house to look for Roger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, and before John could head upstairs to check in the bedrooms, he heard a low hum of rhythm coming from down the hall, from Roger’s music room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room that Roger had customized specifically for his musical creativity was technically soundproof. The padded walls made it ideal for banging on drums and obnoxiously experimenting with instruments. Even with his neighbors a bit away from his home, the noise would still be disruptive to an extent, which is why Roger had it renovated to meet the requirements.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once, Roger insisted that he fucked John over the piano that Roger had, and he pleaded to John for him to scream as loud as he wanted to, because there was no way for anyone to hear them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John did. He screamed and cried out and made as much noise as Roger wanted him to make, and it happened that he had a sore throat the next day. He totally brushed it off in front of the others, claiming he just got sick.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, Roger <em>knew.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was blushing as he remembered the memory from months ago, and willed his body to calm down as he made his way down the extravagant hallway to the music room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John knocked on the door once, and soon decided that would be useless, and opened the door carefully, peering inside.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What he saw made him suck in a quick breath.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Multiple beer bottles were scattered across the room, very obviously either dropped or thrown from where Roger was, mindlessly keeping a fast beat on his drum set, his eyes red from god knows what. An almost empty bottle of expensive rum was placed on a side table closest to Roger, and John couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stood their in awe for a few moments, not quite knowing how to break Roger from his groove. He was flushed and sweating, seemingly not aware of John standing there.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right when John was ready to say something, Roger ended his drumming and looked up, his eyes hazy.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John,” he breathed, a teary smile forming on his pink lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roger,” John replied, walking towards him. “I was worried about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m good, Johnny,” Roger countered, and John rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at the nickname. Roger never, <em>ever </em>called him that and it was a clear indicator that he was drunk. “You’re so fucking sweet,” Roger almost purred, tilting his head. John would have found it endearing if the circumstances were different.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John just got on his knees next to Roger’s set, taking both of his hands in his own and examining his palms. Roger has been know to drum so hard that he broke skin, and tonight was no exception as John gasped lowly at the broken blisters and traces of blood along his hands. “Shit, Roger,” John said, his voice hitching.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I missed you, John, and Brian and Freddie kicked me out today, and—” Roger started, ignoring John’s exclamation, but John shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re drunk, and <em>still</em> drunk. You should have gone home to rest, but instead, you came home and told your liver that it was dead to you.” John usually joked about that, but today, no one was laughing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger sighed, and John felt his hot, alcohol-ridden breath on his skin. Nevertheless, John gingerly kissed Roger’s beaten hands and stood up. “Come, to the bathroom. Let’s get you cleaned up.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger begrudgingly stood with John and followed him to his bathroom upstairs, whining the entire way up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John made him sit up on the counter, as if he were a little boy, and took out bandages and ointment from the cupboard.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Roger let John bandage up his bleeding palms, he looked down at him tenderly. “Thank you, you know, for doing this,” he told John. It was the first coherent thing he said to him all night.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John just shrugged and kept his eyes focused on his task. “Yeah, you were drumming for what? Five hours straight?” he asked conversationally. It was as if both of their hearts weren’t burning with the desire to kiss each other and fix the mess that they had put one another in, and John almost believed it was all okay there for a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s nothing,” Roger smugly countered. “Back in ’70, I could go for <em>eight </em>hours. It’s a nine to five gig, baby.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John knew that Roger was only calling him that due to his clearly intoxicated judgement, so he brushed it off. “How long have you been drunk?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not drunk!” Roger argued, before sighing. “I was <em>last</em> night though, and I messed up, John.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay, Roger.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No it’s not,” Roger murmured helplessly, before his lips suddenly went white.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John knew immediately what that meant, he’d grown up in a single parent household and had to watch his sister get sick on multiple occasions. Not to mention, he had a son.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit, Rog! Don’t get <em>sick</em> all over me,” John said hurriedly. “Toilet, please!” John spat out before guiding Roger the appropriate three feet ahead to the toilet just in time for him to vomit into it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Roger,” John said gently, holding back his blond hair and rubbing his back.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I fucked up, Deaky,” Roger said between his heaving breaths.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Rog,” John comforted, kneeling by Roger, who let himself puke again. John pulled a face, but didn’t say anything. He and Roger were too close to be disgusted by one another’s vomit.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I fucked <em>up,</em> and my hands <em>hurt</em> and I have puke in my hair,” Roger said, his voice wavering with tears.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your hair is fine,” John assured, holding back a giggle at the vain notion.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you doing this, anyway? I’m an awful person.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John chuckled to himself. “You’re my… my <em>friend,</em> and I might as well make myself useful for once.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re always useful—” Another gag interrupted what Roger was trying to say, and John held his shoulders for a short moment in response.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Roger caught his breath, he tried again. “You’re <em>always</em> useful. We’d all be dead by now if not for you! Even Brian is a dumb shit sometimes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” John replied softly. He felt he had no way to say anything except with gratitude, whether or not he believed the words.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was sincere, the <em>gratitude</em> was, anyway. John was letting his insecurities be burdens again, and with Roger in pain and vomiting at almost midnight, it would turn into an inconvenience soon enough, it always did. Right now, Roger was his priority.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“John,” Roger whined, almost slumping into the toilet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah,” John quietly exclaimed, pulling him back against himself before he could fall in, and reaching over to flush Roger’s sickness away in the process.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I'm <em>sad </em>that you think that, you are <em>so</em> useful. you’re our<em> glue,</em> John,” Roger slurred quietly. “You’re <em>my </em>glue, and oh <em>god</em> I fucked <em>up.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everyone gets shitfaced, Roger. You just happen to be a mess when you’re drunk,” John teased lightly. despite his situation, Roger still grinned half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m always a mess, but… why do you think you aren’t useful?” he managed to ask, seeming genuinely concerned for the answer.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John debated answering that question. He considered, Roger wouldn’t remember it anyway, when taken into account how trashed he was, but it would be selfish to encourage his own pity party.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the end, he decided to be selfish. “Well, I can’t sing, so that’s pathetic, y’know, only one in the band who can’t,” John started, mumbling, his gray eyes downcast. “I get nervous onstage. <em>Still. </em>I’m just the bass player, too, so I guess it’s dumb to get nervous, no one is looking at me anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger groaned, and John couldn’t tell if he was just angry at him or if it was his hands, which were still blistered. “Well, <em>I</em> can’t keep my eyes off you, even when Fred is pouncing across the stage like a rabid cat!” he giggled at his own analogy, almost falling off John and onto the floor, but John caught him. “Ooh, Deaky, I love you,” he added on after a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It felt as if John’s heart either skipped a beat, or took five extra ones. <em>Roger is drunk. He is drunk. He is drunk. He said he couldn’t, and I can’t encourage this!</em> John thought to himself rapidly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You cut it off with Veronica because of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John froze. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I <em>fucked up.</em> Despite that! You changed your <em>son’s </em>life for me, and I fucked it up.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s get you cleaned up,” John replied, ignoring Roger’s claims. He couldn’t get angry at him just because he didn’t want to be a home-wrecker.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John stood, dragging an almost limp Roger up with him. Without his platforms, he and Roger were about the same height, and John’s posture had always sucked, so Roger could be taller than him if he tried to be. It was a whole chore to get Roger to the bathroom sink.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Deaks, my hands, they burn,” Roger whined pathetically as he ran them under the stream of water.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“That</em> isn’t my fault. You’re a whiny drunk.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even still, John still took the time to wash Roger’s face himself, and then rinse out the blisters on his hands, as the bandages were long gone by now. John was silent throughout this process, but Roger wouldn’t shut up. He was even more noisy when he was drunk.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Oh, Deaky!</em> You’re so good to me,” Roger began. “I <em>literally</em> don't deserve you. You’re such a good wife to me, and you’re so, so pretty. And that’s coming from me! I have the face of an angel,” he rambled on, as if John wasn’t listening. “But, <em>oh, Deaky!</em> I'm a terrible person. My heart is as black as coal that has petrified from the Earth. I am a fucked drummer who gets angry and lashes out, and I somehow scored someone like you. <em>Oh, Deaky!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, John finished cleaning and bandaging up Roger’s hands again, and Roger had resorted to mumbling incoherent words.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was nearing his limit of hearing Roger slur his name, and finally let out a gentle warning. “Say ‘oh, Deaky’ one more time, and…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What <em>would</em> he do? Nothing, probably, he couldn’t leave Roger like this. He would probably end up setting his house on fire or choking on his own puke by himself in this state, so he couldn’t just leave him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger gasped, grinning like a mad man. “Are you threatening me? Kinky, babe. I’d let you punish me all night long.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s get you in bed.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger’s face lit up, and he wrapped his bandaged arms around John’s neck. “Yes! Deaks, I wanna fuck you so bad, you and only you, I want you to fuck <em>me, </em>too, despite—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No offense, Roger, but I would be impressed if you even got it in.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger scoffed, and John could tell Roger was actually offended. “I did yesterday, and I was <em>so</em> crossed, cocaine and tequila do not mix,” Roger mused casually, as if he was merely discussing the weather.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John looked up at him as he dragged him to his bed. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“And</em> she offered it to me, too. I was coked out, mate. It’s not all it’s hyped up to be, and I’ve always said no to Fred. Don’t do coke, Deaky,” Roger slurred mindlessly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John couldn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, scratch that, he <em>could </em>believe it, and that’s what made it sting the most.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John wasn’t dumb. He knew what Roger was talking about.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger had slept with someone else the night that John <em>chose him and sacrificed everything.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before John allowed himself to have his own heart ripped from his chest, he just set Roger down on the bed. “Go to sleep, Rog, no more alcohol,” he said quietly, feeling the prick of tears behind his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roger groaned, and John couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or from what he said. “I hate what I did, she wasn’t even a good lay. You’re so much better. I wanna fuck <em>you.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John could only stare. He could only <em>stare </em>at Roger, the helpless drunk that had no idea what he just did to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John was sure that he looked like someone just struck him in the face. Was everything that Roger said to him the night before even true? Why would Roger fucking do this if it was?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be angry!” Roger slurred, and John watched the tears start to pour from his eyes. “I was angry, but I <em>love</em> you, Deaks, I wanna love you,” he said, now practically sobbing, somehow now on the floor. John didn’t know how he got there, and frankly, he didn’t care, because he was leaving the room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Leaving Roger’s house.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Leaving the situation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! John, please, I need you, please!” he heard Roger call out after him, his high-pitched voice sounding desperate and intoxicated. It might have even been a figment of his imagination.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Either way, John couldn’t bear to hear another word.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>haha oops again!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. not an update</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>this is not an update!</p><p>i'm sorry to say that i will not be updating this fic. i'm sorry, i started college in august and have not had much time to put into writing. i will be orphaning this series, and keep in mind that the first fic of this series is a two-parter and <em>is </em>complete!</p><p>thank you all for understanding my choice of discontinuing this fic.</p><p>lots of love &lt;3</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please comment! any feedback? i love reading what you all have to say!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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